


Sideways

by jessonthecoast



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Fake AH Crew, Hurt!Michael, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessonthecoast/pseuds/jessonthecoast
Summary: There are times during heists where shit goes wrong. They could come up with a thousand contingency plans but you can't plan for the unexpected. Sometimes things go tits up. Sometimes people get hurt.I do not own any of these characters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say thank you, thank you, thank you to Angela (eclecticxdetour) for beta'ing my fic. I literally would not have finished this without you. No, but really though. There's a dozen more fics that I need to finish writing.

The heist wasn't supposed to go like this. It went bad from the get go but they weren't going to back down, they spent months planning this thing out. In a matter of seconds, all of their hard work went up in flames. They were supposed to get out together under the city and through the sewers, back to their hideout while the cops scrambled to find the crew. They were supposed to get out as a goddamned team but the cops will kill them dead if they're in this big of a group.

They have to go their separate ways. Behind cover outside of the bank, they decide who’s pairing off with whom. Ryan has to go with Geoff; the crew boss comes first and Ryan's the strongest and scariest fighter they have. Michael and Jack take their own bikes, both of them are fair when it comes to firearms and have had each other's back through years of working together. Jeremy teams up with Gavin on their own bikes.

Before they part ways, Michael glances over at Ryan. Normally bright blue eyes rather dark under the mask. They won't say goodbye to each other. It’s just not like either of them to have an over emotional departure, they’ve said what they needed to in the past. Instead, they nod at each other, no words needed. They’ll see each other later.

Ryan’s Zentorno peels out first.  Ryan glances in his rearview mirror and watches his crew straddle their bikes and ride off in separate directions. The sights are quickly replaced by the bright red and blue flashing lights of Los Santos’ best. Geoff slides down the window, spins in his seat and opens fire.

“Eat lead, assholes!” shouts Geoff.

The original plan was that Michael, Jack, Gavin, and Jeremy were going to be the protection detail around Ryan and Geoff. They were going to provide cover as they rode off into the sunset. They came prepared for a gunfight — always do just in case — but they were never supposed to need this many bullets.

“One of these times, can the getaway vehicle not be a goddamned motorcycle!” shouts Michael over the high-pitched police sirens.

“We make it out of here alive and we’ll talk about it,” says Jack, watching the taillights of Gavin’s and Jeremy’s bikes fade away.

“Don’t these little plebs have something else better to do?” asks Gavin, firing blindly behind him and narrowly missing a streetlight.

“Rusty Brown’s is probably closed for the day!” shouts Jeremy, ducking as a bullet whizzes by him.

“ _What?”_

“It was a joke, Gavin,” sighs Jeremy, speeding away.

They went in three different directions, all heading for the same destination. They spend an hour doing heat runs around the city, losing the cops in alleyways and narrowly missing dozens of lead bullets. They had to get rid of their comms when the heist first started because the cops finally got smart and hired a good hacker to listen in on their conversations. Ditching their comms wasn’t even the worst of it. It wasn’t even the first problem they had. Gavin’s popped tire was. (“Alright, look. Every time we go out and have a good time, something bad always happens to me,” says Gavin. “So why don’t you fix your shit? We do these goddamned heists so we have money!” yells Michael. “Well, Michael, we all spend money on different things, don’t we?”) But with no comms, they have no way of knowing if any of their team is still alive. All they have are their partners and a shit ton of hope that they're all going to make it out alive and in one piece.

With how their lives go, Michael and Ryan know they're both asking for too much. They know that their luck will run out eventually and that when shit goes sideways in their life, it goes sideways fast. With how much heat is on them, one of them is bound to end up with some new holes.   

With the sun setting, Geoff and Ryan are the first to arrive at the safe house. The sirens echo loudly from the city to their desert hideout and it doesn’t sound good. After a half an hour of waiting, Gavin squeals in on his bike and Jeremy is right on his tail, both of them kicking up a cloud of dust. Geoff and Ryan give Gavin and Jeremy a once over to make sure they’re all good. Good news: no bullet wounds.

An hour goes by and still no Jack and Michael. Ryan has thought about calling them a dozen times. He just wants to know that Michael and Jack are okay but this isn't the time. The call could get them killed, if they're not already dead.

They're all thinking it but no one will say it.

Ryan shakes the thought from his head and works on cleaning his gun. It's the only thing he can do right now to keep his mind off the thoughts that will only add to the numerous nightmares he has already. Behind his mask, he’s not the calm and collected guy he wants to be. He’ll never admit to being scared right now but… They should be back by now. Michael and Jack are goddamned professionals when it comes to losing the cops. They know all the secret hiding places and back doors to Los Santos; Geoff taught them everything he knows. They know how to lose a fucking tail. Michael should be back by now; they both should be.

Another hour goes by and there’s a rumble of one motorcycle out front, engine barely hanging on by a thread. It keeps backfiring and it’s definitely taken a few bullets. The boys run to the door and there’s Jack, but no Michael.

Ryan's heart drops, his blood runs cold and his vision blurs. After a moment, his fists curl, nails digging into the palms of his hands and he wants to punch the drywall. No, he wants to punch the cop that shot Michael. Wants to tear through every cop in Los Santos until there’s none left.

Storming away towards his Zentorno, Ryan looks one last time at Jack. When Jack finally comes to a halt, Michael is leaning heavily on Jack's back. There’s a sheen on Michael’s jacket. A dark, shiny stain on his jeans. Michael's bleeding.

Jack rips his helmet off and immediately starts stammering out what happened. “We got trapped in an alleyway. They fucking trapped us like rats and the only way out was through. We tried to run straight through them but Michael got hit and his bike was down. The cops were shouting at us and I knew we had to get out of there and--"

Ryan presses two fingers under Michael’s jaw, Michael's normally pounding pulse faint under his touch. "He’s fine, Jack,” says Ryan. He and Geoff lift Michael up from the bike, Michael’s arms slung around their necks, and Michael curses loudly. Ryan clenches his teeth and breathes deeply through his nose.

Jack works on calming himself. He’s going to be the one to repair Michael and he has to have steady hands for this. "You're gonna be fine, Michael. Stay with us," says Jack, pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet and setting up near the couch.

Jeremy and Gavin follow closely behind, closing the door and pacing nervously. They've got nothing to do, no way to contribute. No way to help Michael right now.

When Ryan and Geoff lay Michael down, Jack starts observing the blood. There’s just so goddamned much of it on Michael’s clothes, dripping on the floor, staining Jack’s fingers. He’s trying to figure out where it's all stemming from, making sure to touch gingerly as he searches Michael’s body. There's definitely a bullet in Michael's left shoulder, but Jack finds the other hole in Michael’s leather jacket. Nothing in his shoulder, that's some good news.

“I need someone to put pressure on his shoulder while I figure out where the other hole is,” says Jack.

“I got it,” says Ryan, stepping up before anyone has a chance to speak. He places his palms on either side of Michael’s shoulder, pressing them together and Michael hisses. The warmth of Michael is leaving Michael’s body and spreads over Ryan’s hands. Jack’s working the quickest that he can to find the bullet. Ryan knows that but it’s _Michael_.

Michael also has a lot of blood around the left side of his hips. Jack touches the other side of Michael’s hip and he doesn't find an exit wound. "That bullet's still in him," mumbles Jack. “Geoff, I need something to sterilize with.”

Geoff uncaps the closest bottle of alcohol and gives it to Jack. Jack pours it on the tongs and hands it back. Times like these, Geoff needs a drink to calm the nerves. Bottle in hand and for whatever reason, Geoff can’t make himself gulp it down. He would rather celebrate a quick recovery or drown in alcohol if Michael doesn’t make it, but right now he doesn’t know how this story is going to end. Right now he needs a clear mind and to help Jack as much as possible.

Jack swallows hard as he steadies his hands and slips the tongs in the bullet wound. In the bullet wound that Michael has because he wasn’t careful enough; it’s not like the cops appeared out of thin air.

Michael swears loudly, eyes clenched shut and he bites his lower lip to stop himself from screaming. Knuckles gripped tight on the couch as every shift of the metal tongs sends shooting pain down his leg. He'd rather be numb right now than be in this pain.

“I got it," says Jack, fishing the bullet out of Michael and setting it on the table next to them. Jack grabs the scissors from the kit and snips away some of the denim around the wound, needing the space to stitch up the hole.  "Geoff, can you sterilize the needle for me and--"

"Already done, Jack," says Geoff calmly, handing Jack a needle with thread attached to it.

"Keep that thread ready," says Jack, clenching his pointer finger and thumb together at the top of the wound and pushing the needle through.

Michael whines and shifts under Ryan’s hands. His teeth clench tightly behind the mask.

"When I finish this one, I'll sew up his shoulder. So Ryan, I’ll need you to turn him over carefully," says Jack, tying off the thread and cutting it.

Ryan nods.

Jack sews Michael's shoulder up, Michael groaning when the needle first pierces his tender skin.

The wounds will heal but he'll have two more scars to add to his growing list.

Every one of them has multiple scars and Geoff wishes it wasn't that way but it's par for the course; that's their life. He tries his best to keep his boys safe but shit happens.

When Jack finishes stitching up the front of Michael's shoulder, Ryan carefully rolls him over. The wound gets stitched up with little to no sound from Michael. By now he's gone numb from the pain and eventually passes out.

 

The next morning, Michael wakes up in considerable agony. The bullet wound in his hip causing him the most pain in comparison to his shoulder. "Fuck," moans Michael to the ceiling.

Somewhere in the corner, Jeremy and Gavin stir.

"Hey boi, how ya feelin'?" asks Gavin.

"Like I got shot, boi."

"Twice. Sorry about that," says Jack, handing Michael a glass of water and a Vicodin.

"You got my back, Jack. No apology needed," says Michael. "Where's Ryan?"

"He's outside.”

"Offered to stand guard all night," says Geoff, sipping his coffee.

Michael sighs. Of fucking course Ryan didn't want to sleep last night, couldn't if he tried. Michael tries pushing off the couch, much to Jack and Geoff's disapproval, but Michael is stubborn as fuck and swallows the pain. He hangs onto every doorframe and piece of trim at an arm’s length. Gavin tries to help him along but Michael shoos him away.

When he gets outside, the muggy Los Santos air hits him in the face. "I'm sure any one of the guys would have gladly stood watch all night, Ryan," leaning against the front door.

Ryan doesn't respond immediately, he hangs his head and sighs. "Yeah, I know," says Ryan, standing up from the dirty plastic chair and shoving his pistol in his thigh holster. He walks over to Michael, letting Michael lean into him as they walk back over to the chair.

Michael takes his time sitting down, only partially concerned he’s going to pop out his stitches.

Ryan lifts his mask off and leans down to kiss Michael's hair, disheveled from a rough night. "We should've paired up," mumbles Ryan. "Jack could have gone with Geoff and--"

"And what? With you _or_ Jack, we’d _still_ be in the same scenario,” says Michael. Pain shoots up his side and he rests his weight on the other side, hoping it'll help. It doesn't. "So I've got a few more holes in me. So what? I'm fine. We all are. There is no one you can blame this on."

"But the _mother fuckin'_ cop that--!"

"Is _dead_ , Ryan. We made sure of it," says Michael, a weak smile curling the ends of his lips, recalling the explosion that blew up a dozen squad cars. "We're all fine. _I’m_ the one that got fuckin’ shot and somehow _you_ look worse than me.”

Ryan smiles at that. He knows he looks like shit. He’s seen Michael bleed before — has patched him up more than once — but last night was just… _different_. He wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep even on heavy narcotics. The best thing he could do was stay up and keep watch which meant no beauty sleep for him.

"Let’s go to bed, Ry."

“Okay,” says Ryan, standing to help Michael up. Together they walk slowly back inside the house. Geoff and Jack smile up at Ryan over their cups of coffee, Ryan smiles back.

The boys walk back to their bedroom, Ryan guiding Michael back onto the mattress. Ryan unclips his thigh holster and kicks off his shoes. He walks around to the other side and practically falls into the bed. His body aches, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He needs this. He needs Michael.

 Michael does his best to press into Ryan's side and within minutes they're both out.

 

It takes a few weeks before Michael is able to play around in the sheets with Ryan. The wounds heal enough that when Ryan leans in to kiss the new scars there’s a ghostly ache that fades quickly.


End file.
